


Being Afraid

by terryreviews



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: Often times, companions are excited to join the Doctor. Often pulled towards him due to some situation they'd found themselves in. What about other reactions? Like fear? Valid reaction. Seldom used.





	Being Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to experiment with prose, with form of story and I wanted to write something for the Tenth Doctor. I wanted to write a lot more and more self-indulgent work, but for now, this will have to do. I would love to have feedback :) No pressure though!

Not human.

You wish you could have said you processed this information through a calm, rational, lens. Logically and enthusiastically extending a hand in friendship, weaving bonds of inter-species cooperation.

You tripped on your own two feet when you tried to run away, slamming into the damp pavement with a hard smack that radiated pain through your knees and palms that had tried to brace you.

You laid prone on the ground, nose touching the surface. When nothing attacked you, you shifted into a sitting position. You brought your knees to your chest, wrapped your arms around your knees, and buried your face into your thighs.

Tears of pain turned into tears of humiliation.

After a beat, the light crunch of sand and grit sounded behind you, moved around you, and you sensed he had crouched in front of you.

“Now that’s not the typical reaction I get.”

You curled tighter into yourself.

“But,” you felt a hand on your shoulder, “it’s okay. Understandable. You were unprepared and already emotional.”

You sniffed, face resolutely kept down.

A light squeeze to your shoulder and he said quietly, coaxing, “come on. Come inside. It’s cold out here, you’re soaked, I’m soaked. Get you a change of clothes at least?”

You peeked, just barely looking over your knees, only to find he was watching you. Not an ounce of frustration, not one ounce of judgment. Just an easy going smile.

“I’m…I’m sorry.” You scrubbed the back of your hand over your face and rested your chin on your knees, not ready to stand up yet.

“It’s okay,” he gave another squeeze and then stood up, holding out his hand, “come on.”

You couldn’t say anything around the tightness in your throat and so, with trembling fingers, you took his hands allowing him to pull you to your feet. You hissed in pain and winced at the sticky wet that formed between both your hands. Blood. You were bleeding.

Retracting your hand, you stood there mutely and wiped both your palms against your jeans, feeling the sting and smearing against the fabric.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled again.

“Can’t catch anything anyway, don’t worry about it.” Without a second thought, he took your wrist and led you to the little blue box. Not so little on the inside, which is what scared you initially, but this time you went in silent.


End file.
